Broken Family Tree

8 - Diagnosis

"Come in, come in. Sit him down on the table." Deaton said, going back inside. Malia walked inside, Thomas trailing behind her. Once inside, the smell intensified three-fold. Thomas barely had enough time to hold on to the metal table when he vomited again, his sick splattering all over the floor and his bare feet.

Malia moved out of the way as fast as she could and moved over to Deaton's side.

"He threw up a bit when we were outside, too." She told him, watching as he poured a variety of oils onto a cloth.

"The chemicals are most likely getting to him, then." Deaton guessed, walking over to Thomas and hovering the cloth in front of his face. As soon as Thomas took a whiff of the cloth, he snatched it out of Deaton's hand and slowly inhaled the sweet-smelling oils, the aromas settling the nausea in his stomach.

"That's better, yes?" Deaton asked. Thomas nodded, sitting on the table after being prompted by Deaton. "Now, what can I help you with?"

"Wolfsbane poisoning over the course of seventeen years." Malia spoke for him when he didn't remove the cloth from over his mouth.

"Fourteen," Thomas corrected through the cloth, "I haven't been poisoned in the last three."

"Excuse me?"
"What?!"

Malia turned her head when a second voice was heard whispering. Thomas wasn't on-guard as he would usually be, having already known there was someone else in the building besides the doctor.

"Derek? Is that you?" Malia called out. A minute later, Derek came around to where the three were, stopping when he caught sight of Thomas. The two stared at each other, doing nothing. Derek's expression was easy to read: he was uneasy, and unsure of what to do. The atmosphere was awkward and tense.

"I'm sorry," Thomas' muffled voice broke the tension. "I shouldn't've spoken to you like that. I was angry and wasn't thinking. I'm sorry." He apologized while Deaton continued working in the background, pretending not to be paying attention to the conversation.

"It's alright," Derek assured him, "I apologize for the way I reacted, but you have to understand that we have our own history with Peter."

"Yes, I know. Again, I'm sorry." Thomas apologized again, not really knowing what else to say to his cousin. Cuzhin, he thought. What a weird word.

"No problem," Derek said, feeling a little more at ease. "What's with all the bandages?" He asked next, letting his eyes roam over the boy's covered body.

"Now that you say that—Malia," Deaton said, turning to the were-coyote. "Could you please remove them so I can see what other damage I'm working with?"

"Yeah..." She proceeded to ask Thomas to take off his shirt and pants while Deaton talked to the older of the siblings.

"You say it's Wolfsbane poisoning, yet his physique, movements, speech, and motor skills do not show the signs of a constant poisoning; one would easily assume he's in perfect health." Deaton said, back turned as he prepared a range of healing balms and other mixtures.

"He'd told me that he didn't want to die, so he found another way to survive," was what she said, watching to see if Thomas needed any help with his clothes. "Apparently, he made some sort of liquid that helps with the poison."

At that, Thomas stopped and looked at his sister, surprise and alarm showing in his eyes.

"You weren't as quiet this morning." Was all she said. He looked away and clenched his jaw, scolding himself for getting caught.

"May I have a look at this 'liquid' he's been taking?" Deaton said, checking everything one last time before turning around to look at the interesting pair.